Do you ever stop eating?
by lost.the.ability.to.even
Summary: Ron has always been weird about his food: eating a lot, and eating it fast. He knew he was fairly thin, but he also knew his eating would catch up to him, and he was terrified. Trigger warning for eating disorders. Rated T for mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

**I was looking at Harry Potter eating disorder fics (I have no good explanation for this) and discovered that there was only ONE about Ron! Well, immediately, the wheels started turning and I started writing. Because Ron is _always_ eating in the books/movies, it just seemed to make sense to me. Or maybe my mind just works that way. I don't know. But yeah. I need to stop talking. Er, writing.**

**So, trigger warnings for eating disordered thoughts and behaviours. If this is a touchy subject for you, please don't read. I do not currently have a beta reader, so all mistakes are mine.**

**Anyway, I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I want to own it because crap like this would be canon if I did.**

**Enjoy! Er, well, maybe not _enjoy_. So...Read on!**

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><p>Ron had always been weird about his food. Maybe it was because he had to fight his siblings for it, maybe it was because he was presented so much of it on a daily basis with his mother's cooking and then at the regular Hogwarts' feasts. But he took large portions and ate it fast. He fantasized about his next meal and picked out what he would eat hours in advance. When food was in front of him, Ron would eat it.<p>

He knew that he was thin, but he also knew that eating like this would eventually catch up with him, and he was terrified. But he couldn't stop.

Hermione kept commenting on him eating like a pig, and how it was amazing how much he could consume. Ron agreed with her: his consumption both astounded and disgusted him on a daily basis.

For the welcome back feast of their fourth year, there was an incredibly rich display of food, and Ron was pretty excited for it. He couldn't decide what he wanted, so he just took a little of everything, and then went back for more. His stomach soon strained against the waistband of his pants, and he even had to undo a button to relieve some of the tightness.

And he continued to eat.

He wasn't sure why. He knew he was full, even too full for comfort, but he just kept stuffing food in his mouth.

Hermione looked at him strangely. "I feel like I've seen you get more food five times now."

His face heated and he sheepishly nodded.

"I don't know how you do it, Ronald."

"Me, either," he replied, mouth crammed full of his third helping of pudding.

After the feast was over, Ron could hardly stand up straight.

"Are you okay, Ron?" Harry asked.

"I think I might have overdone it a bit on the pie. And pudding. And chicken legs. And… ugh. I feel horrible."

Harry smiled a bit. "Let's just get to bed. You can sleep it off." They started walking towards the common room.

"I might have to skip breakfast tomorrow," Ron said. "I'll probably still be full."

Harry scoffed. "You'll be ravenous by morning."

When they got to their dorm, Harry immediately changed and got into bed. Ron, however, saw something that caught his eye.

Picking up a fallen chocolate frog lying next to his friend's trunk, he asked Harry, "Is this yours?"

"I dunno. Maybe?"

"Can I have it?"

"I thought you said you were full."

Ron thought this over. He was full, but the chocolate frog was here, and how can he pass up an opportunity to have chocolate? He shrugged. "But can I have it?"

"Knock yourself out. Just don't wake me up when you start vomiting." And with that, Harry rolled over and went to sleep.

Vomiting? Why would he throw up? You eat to keep it down, and Ron had an iron stomach. The last time he threw up was the slug incident. Well, and the spider incident. But that was in second year. But maybe he'd feel better if…

He didn't exactly know what happened next, but Ron was somehow in the bathroom kneeling in front of the toilet, waiting for his dinner to come back up. He tried clenching his stomach, poking it, willing the food to come out. He just wanted to be rid of it, feel better again.

He stuck his fingers down his throat, because he had heard something from somewhere about how this makes someone throw up. Nothing happened. He stuck them in farther, wiggled them around a bit, and he gagged but noting came up. He tried again. This time, success.

He did this about six more times, each procuring slightly bigger bits of partly digested food as he went on. He stopped before he could get it all out. He was shaking and sweating all over. What had he done?

He quickly flushed, washed up, and exited the bathroom. Thankfully, his roommates were all asleep. Ron hastily followed suit.

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><p>Ron woke up with a burning sensation in his throat and a terrible taste in his mouth. The events of the previous night crashed down on him. This wasn't normal. Normal people didn't shove their fingers down their throats when they were full.<p>

So he tried to forget about it.

He went through his day normally. Well, as normal as possible. At meals, he kept thinking that he could now eat all he wanted without getting fat. But he didn't want to do… that thing – again. So he ate a little lighter than usual. And no one noticed anything different.

This continued for a while, until he almost forgot about that night. Almost. It was still a nagging thought at the back of his mind, but it was a thought he could deal with.

Life went on. Harry was chosen to be in the Triwizard Tournament, and even though he knew he should be there for his friend, Ron just felt so mad. How come _he_ never got this kind of attention? It was always the famous Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.

But he found that he actually was nervous for Harry. They were best friends, after all. And he found himself eating. And eating. And eating. He told himself to stop, but it didn't work.

So when Ron was supposed to be watching his friend battle a dragon, he was instead in a deserted bathroom, throwing up his overly large breakfast. Thankfully, he made it to the pitch before it was Harry's turn, so he didn't feel too bad. He even didn't feel really guilty about making himself sick again.

He and Harry made up and everything was fine once more. Well, until it wasn't.

The Yule Ball happened, and he was miserable. His dress robes looked awful on him, and it wasn't just the frills.

While watching Hermione dance her heart out with Krum, Ron stuffed himself silly before storming out so he could puke and forget.

The fourth time he does it is after the second challenge. He doesn't deserve someone as good as Harry. He shouldn't have been the stolen treasure. He's not good enough for that. Harry would desert him if he knew what Ron was doing to his body. So, instead of eating during dinner, he goes down to the kitchens so he can gorge himself privately. There was also a bathroom down there.

It soon became a regular occurrence for Ron to go down to the kitchens for his fix. He even once stole Harry's invisibility cloak when he had an urge in the middle of the night.

The house elves weren't stupid. They watched him curiously, and supplied him with all the food he could eat and then some, and turned away when his retching was heard from the adjacent restroom. Ron almost felt kind of bad, making them keep this secret. But not bad enough to stop.

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><p><strong>So yeah. First chapter. Tell me what you think. And stuff. I like reviews. Wink wink. Cough cough. Smiley face. Laugh out loud. Roll on the floor like Draco Malfoy.<strong>

**Kay. I'm done.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So I've had this written for a few weeks now, but my computer's internet is broken... or something... Me and technology don't get along well. But here it is! Read on, virtual friends! But be cautious of the trigger warnings: eating disordered thoughts/behaviors.**

**By the way, I don't own Harry Potter.**

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><p>Ron stared at himself in the mirror. He'd gotten fatter. Months of throwing up everything he ate led to him getting fatter. It wasn't fair! He just wanted to feel better, look better.<p>

His heart pounded faster, and anger welled up in him. He needed food. Now.

The only problem was that everything in number 12, Grimmauld Place was to be shared with everyone. He wouldn't be able to go out to replace the food he ate. Everyone else would have to go without dinner, and it would be all his fault.

It had been three days since the end of term, and Ron hadn't been able to eat or puke since then. He was miserable, and all he wanted was some goddamned food.

Even though he knew he would regret it, he took everything he could find in the kitchen and ate it and threw it back up. That was all he ever did, nowadays. Eat, eat, eat, puke, puke, puke.

He sat on his bed and listened to his erratic heartbeat and watched his shaking hands. He listened to his mom go on about the missing food, interrogating every person in the house. Ron pretended to take a nap instead.

When dinner was called, he didn't get up. Couldn't get up. He couldn't bear to face his mother after what he had done. He eventually did end up falling asleep.

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><p>The next morning, Ron woke up starving. He wanted more than the meager amount of cereal he'd been given. He looked down into his empty bowl. "I'm still hungry, Mum."<p>

Mrs. Weasley sighed and handed him an apple. This would never fill him up, but he still ate it. He then went upstairs to get rid of his breakfast.

This routine continued. Ron was never full, but he still threw up whatever he ate. He sometimes slipped up and ate everything, and then he'd feel horrible. His mom found him once, while he was inhaling the entire kitchen. "So this is what happens to all the food…" she sighed. But she didn't stop him.

He felt guilty about his Prefect badge. He really didn't deserve it. Why would Dumbledore trust someone who couldn't even bloody eat without throwing it back up? But he still wore it around like the prat he was.

Ron had never been more grateful for the summer to be over. He couldn't stand all the sneaking around and stealing food and illegally using magic to muffle the sounds of his puking.

The welcome back feast offered the much needed comfort of piles of food. But then that Umbridge woman wouldn't stop talking, and Ron could feel the food sitting in his stomach, his body slowly absorbing all the fat and calories. He dashed to his room and spent the next hour getting rid of dinner. He walked out of the bathroom to see Neville sitting up in his bed.

"I heard you being sick," he said.

Ron shrugged. "Must've eaten something funny."

"You were in there for over an hour."

He nodded. "I feel better now. You should go to bed."

"So should you."

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><p>He found Hermione staring at him a lot. Well, it was a little strange when someone ate enough to feed a whole family, but Ron still felt uncomfortable.<p>

"Do you ever stop eating?" Hermione asked one time.

Ron looked over the pamphlet in his hand and replied through a full mouth, "What? I'm hungry." But he felt a hot shame rise up in him and couldn't look anyone in the eye for the rest of the meal.

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><p>Ron knew he was being stupid trying out for the Quidditch team. There were people so much better than him, and it was a stroke of luck that he actually made it. He just knew he would disappoint the team.<p>

But with all the Quidditch practices and homework and prefect duties, there wasn't a ton of time for his…other hobby. Ron figured this was a good thing. After all, throwing up more than the necessary times after meals probably wasn't very good for him.

Well, none of this had been very good for his body. His throat and stomach hurt almost constantly now, and he knew that if kept asking Madam Pomfrey for a soothing potion she would become concerned. He was nearly always tired and got light-headed quite often.

Quidditch practices were grueling, and he had nearly fallen off his broom on a few occasions as the result of a dizzy spell, though he passed it off merely as being clumsy. He told himself he'd throw up less, or maybe just eat less in general, but he always went back on these promises.

And the worst part was that he didn't look any different. Well, his face was puffy and he'd be bloated sometimes, but he hadn't lost any weight. On the other hand, he really started doing this so he wouldn't _gain_ any weight, so in that aspect, he had been successful.

He didn't know how much more of this his body could take.

Sometimes, droplets of blood wound up in the toilet, and Ron would panic and not puke for a few days. But then he'd be horribly bloated and feel absolutely disgusting and fat, and he would start again. He just couldn't stay away. Besides, the blood wasn't even that much. He had probably just scratched his throat with his fingernails or something.

But one afternoon, there were more than just a few drops. A lot more. Pale and shaky, Ron rose and exited the bathroom. He found Hermione in the common room, poring over some book or other.

"Hermione," he whispered.

"I'm a bit busy right now," she replied.

"No, Hermione, I need help. I think something's wrong."

This immediately caught her attention, and she surveyed him. "What's happening?"

Ron put a hand up to his throat. "I'm bleeding."

"Where?" She looked him over once more.

"I… I got sick and threw up blood. Like, a lot of blood. I think something's seriously wrong with me, Hermione."

Her eyes widened. "I think you should go to Madam Pomfrey."

"Why can't you fix it?" Ron really didn't want to go to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey would figure out that this was more than a one-time thing.

"I have absolutely no training in medicine. And I'm not even sure what's going on."

Ron, however, had a pretty good idea of what was happening to his body: it was giving up. He pushed the limit just a little too far for a little too long.

Hermione dragged him out of the portrait hole and up to the hospital wing. She repeated his story to Madam Pomfrey, who looked worried, but gave him a potion that would stop the bleeding. He dropped onto a bed to steady himself, and was told he would have to stay the night.

"Why do I have to stay? I'll be fine once the potion starts working, right?"

Madam Pomfrey looked over him, a look of uncertainty on her face. "I just want to keep an eye on you."

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><p>He was served dinner in the hospital wing, and was thankful that he didn't have to be around so many people when he stuffed himself like a pig. He didn't care that he had just thrown up blood. In fact, the potion made him feel stronger, like he could handle more than he originally thought. He then told Madam Pomfrey, who had been watching him carefully, that he was taking a shower, and proceeded to rid himself of the food.<p>

He stepped out of the bathroom to find the nurse waiting for him.

"Have you been sick again?" she asked sternly.

Ron's heart skipped a beat, but he nodded and looked at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I was feeling better, but I guess not."

She took in his response, nodded slowly, then asked him to sit down with her. "You must have been throwing up pretty violently this morning if you vomited blood."

He shrugged. "I guess so."

"And you weren't at all worried that you might throw up again after you ate dinner?"

"I was hungry…"

She sighed. "I just want you to rest now. You can go back to classes tomorrow, but please come to me if you get sick again."

Ron nodded. "Of course," he replied.

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><p>Lying in the hospital bed, uncomfortable and bloated, Ron seriously debated telling the truth. He couldn't survive like this much longer, and he knew it. But, at the same time, he didn't want to give it up. It was comforting, and very much a habit by now. He eventually decided to sleep on it and make the final conclusion in the morning.<p>

The only problem was that Ron couldn't sleep. He didn't know what to do with himself, and he wanted food. He wandered the hospital wing, searching for anything that looked edible, to no avail. He decided to risk going to the kitchens.

Miraculously, he was not caught. The house elves seemed to recognize him from the previous year, and soon filled his order.

Halfway through his obscenely large pile of food, the door creaked open and Harry slowly took off his invisibility cloak. The two stared at each other.

"Hermione told me you were sick, so I was a bit confused when I saw you in the kitchens." He held up the Marauder's Map. Ron stood abruptly. "What are you doing?"

"I have to go." And then he ran.

Harry found him quickly, behind a bush by the lake, fingers down throat, food splattering on the ground. Ron knew Harry was watching, but he couldn't stop.

When he was done, he rinsed his mouth and hands with the lake water, splashed his face, and started back towards the castle, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"What the bloody hell was that, Ron?" Harry whispered harshly.

He walked faster, but Harry still kept up.

"Why were you doing that?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Then help me understand!"

But Ron started running. He got back to the hospital wing before he blacked out.

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><p><strong>So...yeah. See ya next time!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey. Sorry this took a bit. I really did have the intention of posting it the past few days, but... well, yeah. Life happened and I couldn't access the internet. Moving on, here's the next chapter!**

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><p>A huddle of faces loomed over Ron's hospital bed. He blearily opened his eyes, and was immediately embraced in one of his mother's bone-crushing hugs. She sniffled but didn't say anything, which Ron found odd. In fact, nobody was saying anything. Harry stood a little apart from the group, staring intently at his shoes.<p>

He then noticed something sticking out of the back of his hand, connecting to a bag of clear liquid on a stand at his bedside. "What is this?" he asked quietly. No one said anything. "What's happening?" Still nothing. "Someone tell me what the bloody hell is going on!" Anxious glances were exchanged, and Mrs. Weasley eventually spoke up.

"We need to understand what's been going on with you," she said carefully, not quite catching his eyes.

"Nothing is going on," he replied shortly.

"So last night was 'nothing'?" Harry stepped forward. There was a fire in his eyes, but also a hint of sadness. "I find you eating enough food for five, and then making yourself throw it back up. How is that nothing?!"

"It's not a big deal," Ron mumbled.

"Oh, yes it very well is," replied Mrs. Weasley. "How many times have you done that?"

He shrugged.

She let out a cry of frustration before sitting down in a nearby chair, head in hands, taking long, shuddering breaths. "This summer," she let out. "This is what you were doing. How could I not notice?"

"It's not your fault, Mum."

They were silent for a while. Ron examined the thing in his arm. Ginny stared at him, expressionless. Hermione looked from him to the window, tear tracks evident on her face. The twins shuffled their feet. Fred broke the stillness by saying, "I guess we should keep you away from the puking pastilles," which received a feeble laugh.

"So, do I go back to class after this?"

"I believe," George said, looking to the others for reassurance, "that you're going to St. Mungo's."

Ron shot up in bed. "St. Mungo's? Why do I have to go there?"

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "This has wreaked absolute havoc on your body. You're dehydrated, you have severe electrolyte imbalance, and your esophagus is this close to ripping open. Again."

"Can't you just wave your wand and fix all of that?" Ron asked.

"No, I can't. That's what this IV is for. It's rehydrating you."

He stared at the foreign object in his arm, a hint of disgust on his face. "What are they going to do with me there?" he asked. No one knew. "Well then why am I going?"

"What would you prefer us to do?" Mrs. Weasley snapped.

"Just let me go back to class. I can do this on my own."

"No, you can't. You've already shown us that. We don't want you hurting yourself even more."

"I'm not hurting myself," Ron replied stubbornly.

"Then what is all this?" Hermione spoke up, gesturing to the IV and the general hospital wing.

Ron hesitated a moment, thinking. Finally, he said, "Minor complications."

"For God's sake, Ronald." Hermione seemed like she was going to say more, but instead she bit her lip and looked away.

"I think he has a point, though."

"Oh, don't side with him, Fred," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

"Listen, Mum." She stared at the twins hard. "They don't exactly have a ward for something like this at St. Mungo's."

Mrs. Weasley looked to Madam Pomfrey. "They must be able to do something with him," she said, a note of panic in her voice.

"Uh…" The nurse thought for a moment. "I suppose I could owl them. If they can't help, I'm sure they could recommend a place."

"Thank you, Poppy." Mrs. Weasley gripped the other woman's hands, then sat down in a chair near Ron's bed. "Now you all," she turned towards the students, "get to your classes."

They left slowly, some giving small smiles to the boy on the bed, others stalking off rather huffily, namely Harry.

"You should try to get some rest." His mom squeezed his hand. "I'll be here when you wake up."

"Thanks, Mum." He rolled over and honestly tried to sleep, but he just kept thinking about what was going to happen to him. He'd never be allowed to continue puking, but if he didn't, he'd become incredibly fat, and the though of that was unbearable.

Somehow, he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, he was being gently shaken awake. "Ronald, sweetie, you need to eat some dinner, now."

He groaned and blearily opened his eyes. A large tray of food sat on his bedside table, and Ron felt a wave of impending doom. He could eat all he could handle and puke, but his mother would know what was going on, and probably not let him into the bathroom. Or, he could refuse to eat so he wouldn't get fat, but that would also worry his mom. The thought of eating normally barely crossed his mind. He didn't even know what normal was anymore.

"I'm actually not that hungry," he said, but his traitorous stomach let out a large growl.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ronald. Eat something."

Moodily, Ron grabbed at the tray and began his routine. Once all the food was gone, he got up and started towards the bathroom.

"Ronald…" his mom said warningly. He stared at her, then slammed the door in her face. "You don't have to do this!" A spell was cast on Ron's part, and the door locked.

"I'm really sorry, Mum," he said. "Please don't come in. I don't want you to have to watch."

But she listened. Ron felt her presence at the door while he threw up his dinner. He heard her muffled sobs, and waves of guilt crashed through him.

When he got out, he saw him mom kneeling next to the door, head against the wall and tears flowing steadily down her face. She looked up at him. He looked away. "I'm sorry," was all he could say, voice raw and full of pent up emotions.

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><p><strong>Whew. So. That happened. Stay tuned for chapter four (to be posted at some point in the near or distant future).<strong>


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